


The Pond

by saywhat



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/F, Frustrated on All Kinds of Levels Sharon Raydor, Human Disaster Brenda Leigh Johnson, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saywhat/pseuds/saywhat
Summary: She kneeled, and braced herself against the bank, reaching down - fingers, wrist, arm, shoulder - but it was gone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place at some undetermined time after Season 7 of The Closer and diverges from canon.

But I'm not gonna ask you for nothing  
Just luv me, just luv me  
I'ma keep it simple, real simple  
Just luv me, just luv me

\- Jus Luv Me, Britney Spears

 

Sometimes Brenda’s brain would trick her; the slow, methodical click of heels coming behind her while she's swerving through human traffic in between courtrooms, the swish of a well cut pantsuit disappearing around the corner while she’s shopping for groceries. Once, in a particular fit of insanity, her ears had even deceived her into thinking that she had heard Sharon’s soft voice calling her Chief; in that infuriatingly slow and precise intonation she always did.

She was so angry with herself after that brief episode she resolved to start rationing her thoughts about that woman. Once a day at the most, maybe twice when it’s particularly trying. Or when she really has nothing else better to do. Or maybe being alone in her giant apartment is slowly driving her crazy.

Sometimes the memories would come to her, clear as day. When she was a little kid, she slipped under the fence behind the house once, past the mossy riverbanks, climbed across giant tree roots, and slipped on some slime, breaking her watch. She got herself up and looked around. There was no one, so she didn’t cry. Time stopped, but it didn’t matter. She was chasing a frog when she came across that pond. The frog had jumped in with a disgruntled croak. She kneeled, and braced herself against the bank, reaching down - fingers, wrist, arm, shoulder - but it was gone. She wondered if that pond is still there, behind the house. She wondered if she should have gave in to that overwhelming urge, to tell Sharon about this particular story. All those stolen moments, all the things that she had wanted to say.

But no, she made the right decision. Momma and Daddy would’ve never forgiven her for a second divorce. And it’s a good thing they had both passed when Fritz decided he didn’t want her anymore.

And things are better now anyways. She’s getting used to being alone. Doing all the adult things by herself. Fritz should see her now. She even gets her own groceries. Every week.

She’s squinting at the nutritional label of a new flavour of Tim Tams (she’s learned to be health conscious too, thank you very much) when she moves out of the way instinctively for another trolley coming through, and hears a familiar voice.

“Brenda?”

It’s Rusty. Staring at her like he can’t believe his eyes. A range of emotions flits across his face and after a brief second he decides to settle on being friendly.

“How are you?”

Brenda’s not really sure how she’s doing nowadays, but she’s definitely getting better. She might have thought about the answer for too long though, because Rusty let out an awkward laugh and started rambling.

“Never thought I’d see you in an organic grocery store. You come here often? Cos we come here every week. Um-”

“Rusty?” Sharon comes round the corner in the next instant, and like in a horror movie, starts advancing on the two of them. She looks just the same, perfectly put together, more breathtakingly beautiful than usual. Or maybe it’s the sugar high she’s on colouring her vision. For a split second, she considers turning around and running, quitting her job and then hightailing out of California forever. Starting anew somewhere far away is suddenly extremely appealing right now.

“Are you alright?”

Brenda tried to feel what her face is doing to invoke such concern from Sharon but she couldn’t. Almost out of reflex, she squeezes out a smile (or what she hopes looks like a smile), “Yes. Of course. Capt- Chief.” The slip of tongue was so terrifying Brenda realised she’s taken a chunk off the inside of her lips. She licks the bruised spot, tasting the remnants of chocolate mixing with blood.

Sharon seems to be placated though, the corners of her mouth relaxing and taking on that familiar expression of amusement. Brenda’s relieved. Her stomach settling, thoughts of fleeing gone. She’s so tired of everyone shooting pitying looks at her and being nice to her in that “I feel sorry for you” way. She wonders what Sharon thinks about her divorce. The Captain had called when Daddy had passed, but Brenda had watched it go to voicemail. She got flowers and a handwritten note a week later. The sweet, cloying smell permeated her old house for weeks before she came home one day and Fritz had thrown the flowers out. She was so mad because she had left the note in the bouquet and was saving reading it for a bad day when she felt like she just couldn’t hang on anymore. She still resents Fritz a little for that.

But there was no attempt at contact when she got served divorce papers at work. Except maybe once. Almost. She wasn’t hoping to get flowers or another note or anything. She was just randomly scrolling through their message history; they had always talked less than she thought, brief messages exchanging time and locations. But on that day, while she was staring at the phone screen, regretting her life decisions a little, those three little dots signalling that the other person was typing popped up. Brenda almost jumped out of her sofa, and watched with rapt attention for the next fifteen minutes as it disappeared and reappeared on her screen intermittently. Brenda’s pretty sure she went through more emotions in that fifteen minutes than in her entire marriage with Fritz. In the end though, no message came through. Brenda basically took the phone into the shower with her for the next month to see if it might happen again, but nothing did.

“Do you want to get lunch? With Rusty and I?”

Brenda came back to herself with a start. Sharon’s frown was back, and all of a sudden Brenda acutely felt Sharon’s lean towards her, the Tims Tams she was still gripping in her hand, the cold air in the store cooling the sweat on the back of her neck. Rusty’s gone. Sharon’s still waiting for her to reply to something she said.

Sharon takes a step closer, and Brenda is mesmerised by the proximity. She thinks about the pond, the broken fence and the shattered face of her watch rippling in the cool, clear water. How she had re-found her pond over and over, every summer.

Brenda goes back, past the inconsequential details, the mundane chores, the dull workdays that obscure. Her mind re-finds what she had almost lost before, and for a bright moment she feels that everything will be alright now. She takes a deep breath, and gently curls her fingers around Sharon’s hand hovering hesitantly around Brenda’s arm.

“Yes.”

Sharon’s eyes flits back from where they’re touching. And she seems to be searching for something in Brenda urgently. Brenda smiles, despite herself, at this familiar feeling.

“Actually, how about dinner? I’m making something.”

Sharon seems stunned for a moment, and Brenda watches as she purses her lips and waits for that suspicious glint to show up in her eyes.

Something unfurls in her chest.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been my first foray into writing fanfiction after some Naruto fics I wrote when I was 12. Haha. It's also unbeta-ed so please tell me if there're any glaring mistakes! Comments are greatly appreciated. You can also come talk to me on [whaaaaaaaaaaaaa.tumblr.com](http://whaaaaaaaaaaaaa.tumblr.com)!


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